


Beat It Out Of Him

by QuestionableEthics (CredibilityProblem)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CredibilityProblem/pseuds/QuestionableEthics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You try to wipe the grin off his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beat It Out Of Him

The clown smiles, always, and you try to beat it out of him.   
  
It's a smug smile, content, placid. A soulless grin. You should know why, but you don't especially care. You loathe it. So you take your crowbar and try to wipe it off his face.   
  
You feel his jaw break, under the force of your swings. You feel bones crack and shift. He coughs and spits out teeth and leaks purple juice from every orifice. He looks pathetic. His face is a formless swollen mass, eyes puffed half shut, his body is trembling before you on the floor, and yet as soon as you give him a minute's reprieve, he looks up to you and  _smiles_.   
  
You swing your foot, the prosthetic one, and slam it into his face.   
  
It doesn't help.   
  
The clown follows you wherever you go, and whatever you need from him, he does. Each day, you beat on him, some. You're not sure what you are trying to accomplish, at this point. You've seen him crawl after you for miles, after a new round of bullets, dragging his body by the implausible force of two fractured arms, gripping the earth with hands that should have been useless after you crushed each finger. Yet, he moves forward until he's right next to you and  _beams_.   
  
The thing is, you never give up.   
  
So you grip your crowbar and hammer it into his rib cage. Whenever you start beating him, he lets himself flop down on the floor and just lies there. That's both gratifying and infuriating, so you hit him extra hard. You feel the bones give away, when you strike him. You feel them crumble. You push past the cracks into his soft squishy insides and press. He tries to take shuddering breaths with blood-soaked lungs and whines. It's nice, in a way.   
  
He still looks up with soft, wet eyes, and smiles.   
  
When you slam your foot into his stomach just the right way, he'll vomit up blood. That's especially disgusting, but you kind of like it, so you do it frequently. He gotten skinnier, since he's been following you. His belly is a concave plane, framed by damaged bones, mottled purple. You'd wonder if clowns need to eat, but you don't give a shit. He pushes his body up on slender arms and grins, as if he just performed a clever trick and hopes you're impressed.   
  
You might just be, if he wasn't so loathsome.   
  
His skin used to be a uniform gray, now it's a crude tapestry of purplish scars and dark bruising. It's ugly as fuck. Sometimes splintered bones peek through teared skin. You probe at them, grate the tip of the crowbar against the holes and then you  _push_ , just to see the clown twitch.  
  
You guess sometimes it's okay to have him around. Beating on the clown helps you focus. It clears you head. And he doesn't seem to mind. After lying in a puddle of his blood for a while, he'll just swap his gory clothes for clean ones, reapply his face paint and limp back to you, friendly grin in place, ready for the show and greedy for instructions.


End file.
